


we nearly drowned for such a silly thing

by lovingness



Series: haikyuu!! one shots [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Dialogue Light, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25679791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovingness/pseuds/lovingness
Summary: He wants to drown Tobio in himself, Kei does, wants to imagine that there are waves upon waves crashing in Tobio’s body that Kei can pull them both under. Waves that crest, screamingkiss him like before kiss him again kiss him. Love him.Love the one who’s been swimming after you for ten years, and who you left drowning in his own sadness.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Tsukishima Kei
Series: haikyuu!! one shots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782424
Comments: 10
Kudos: 85
Collections: falling in love easy





	we nearly drowned for such a silly thing

**Author's Note:**

> ["old friend" by mitski.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bs3nMPeglk4)

It’s with a surprised half-grin, still delicately guarded, that Kei receives Tobio again, years after they’ve graduated and when they find themselves meeting again. 

The Tokyo National Museum, Kei’s second job after moving from the City Museum in Sendai, is Tobio’s favorite spot to visit when he catches long enough breaks at home from playing professional in Italy, he tells Kei; he always picks a hotel within walking distance.

And Kei responds, suddenly too vulnerable and trying to find air with the sinking revelation that Tobio is just down the street, that he’s only got five more minutes of his shift left and why doesn’t he give Tobio a tour once he’s done? _Too vulnerable_ , he thinks, trying to gauge as he would in high school Tobio’s reaction from the way his skin reddens high on his face. 

Because he knows they both know if it’s Tobio’s favorite spot he doesn’t need one at all. 

Because this all feels too familiar, and too much like they’re teenagers again.

Present-tense is an adrift sailor and his lighthouse, a spread of dark water between the two.

As second years, there comes after practice one night the inevitable captain and co-captain discussion. The four of them make a roundtable in the front of Sakanoshita Store, only after Coach Ukai warns the four of them that the doors _will_ lock behind them once they leave. 

Tadashi, after successfully goading Kei into giving up a precious half-hour of his time, is the first one to be nominated by Tobio for co-captain. Tadashi flounders in his folding chair, face red, but Hinata seconds Tobio and from there it’s a downward spiral. The conversation goes back and forth from _I’d be a terrible captain!_ versus _One time you snapped at a first-year and almost made them cry!_ versus _I was having a bad day because I flunked my history test! Don’t base my leadership abilities off of that!_

Kei listens, half-interested the whole time until it quiets down. He clears his throat and waits until he knows the three of them are looking at him; when Tobio gestures for him to talk he purposefully pauses three more seconds. Just to hear Tobio huff.

He suggests, with a little side-eye at Tobio, that Tadashi should be captain. And Tobio co-captain. The jab that follows - _we can knock our king down a peg_ \- kind of comes out all on its own.

And, _man_ , Kei’s held-back grin at the white-rimmed press of Tobio’s lips and the burn in his eyes is equal parts from amusement and- something else. Something simmering and pushing under his skin, like choppy waters on the restless surface of his chest.

The convenience store lighting and the whirring air conditioning feel suddenly stifling.

The amount of girls Kei has turned down just by the end of his first year could probably set some kind of record.

Tadashi teases him about it after practice one day, when he sees Kei shoving another box of chocolates into his backpack. And he asks, a little too loud, _Which girl was it today?_

Shouyou and Tobio, still in the humid club room with them, whip their heads around in a fashion that would be comical to anyone else. But to Kei, it’s just a reason for his face to burn and to shoot a glare at Tadashi whose hands are already raised in apology.

Tobio, though, looks between Kei’s backpack and Kei a little confused. Because, he asks quietly, didn’t he get one of those yesterday?

Kei sighs. Yes, he did. And he rejected that girl, too.

There’s some kind of light that blinks on behind Tobio’s eyes, and they widen enough for Kei to notice. Like there’s a connection between the two boys, a ship bound with a course to a lighthouse.

An unspoken question: _Is it because you don’t like her like that, or is it just because she’s a-?_

To everyone else, though, Tobio just nods once before he turns back to his locker.

And Kei’s chest, heart and all, is suddenly placid. Still.

Maybe Tobio gets it. Gets _him_.

The sailor, from one year to the next, makes steady progress. Notes in his log that there was barely a hitch.

Kei hates it when Tobio is right. He’ll admit it, alright, will tell Tobio after a match that his call in the second set was the right one to make as Ennoshita butts in with his own praise; you’re going to make a great co-captain, he’ll say to Tobio like he always does. 

But Kei won’t like it.

Every right call Tobio makes, every play he directs in the middle of a game and the cheering that follows him, is another voice added to the mocking ones in the back of Kei’s mind. The icy drone like a second skin, a sheen that’s been crawling across his body for two years of high school.

 _You like him too much,_ the whispers taunt. _Too much for a boy to like another boy. And he probably doesn’t like you back. Or he likes Shouyou more. Or he likes anyone else more. And he doesn’t- you._

_He doesn’t- you._

Repeat. 

As his proud chest tightens and tightens at the sight of Tobio, always shining and independent. Coastal.

Kei asks Tobio, as they walk back to their hotel on the second day of Nationals as third-years, if the assholes in the second game really didn’t piss Tobio off. Because they certainly pissed off Kei, and he would’ve done something if not for the referee.

Tobio shrugs, and looks over at Kei. Says something about how his focus was on other things, and not on players who compensate for doing poorly with shitty insults. 

And, anyway, he adds, why does Kei care so much?

Kei’s face reddens more along with the chilly air around them and he looks forward, mumbles out a non-answer.

He just hopes Tobio feels as much as he does.

He hopes- when they kiss each other, and when they go out together, and when they video call every time Kei asks, and when their date nights get rained out and they spend the night in one of their beds.

Kei hopes a great deal, as he points himself ever in the direction of him.

Moreso than he ever did before he started to replace “King” in his mind with just “Tobio”.

Kei waves Kentarou, and the noise of the Olympic game playing from his phone, off with a dismissive hand. He slips into his sneakers and tells his asking teammate the pestering thought that hasn’t left him alone. Which, to Kentarou, doesn’t need to be anything more than a closed-off statement that seeing Shouyou and Tobio play makes Kei feel like he has to do something. Anything.

Which is not a lie. He’s quick to defend from that.

The rhythmic thud of Kei’s shoes, though, beats something out on the damp, puddle-riddled pavement that’s closer to the truth.

 _I-want-to-be-need-ed-by-you_ , says the truth.

_Please-need-me. To-bio._

_He-doesn’t- -you._

Kei will not fill in the offending word.

Uneven waters impede the sailor between Point A and Point B.

One time, late in the term as third-years, Kei and Tobio are the last ones left in the club room.

Tobio tosses the keyring in his hand - up, down, up - and asks Kei if he can hurry his shit along so he can lock the door and go home. Kei, in practiced rhythm, bites out a little _make me_ , and the pause of the keys jingling is enough to make him look up from his volleyball bag.

A clenched hand around biting keys, and even Kei can tell in the mild darkness that Tobio’s face is red. And neither of them are sure what to do with Kei’s _make me_ , the tease in it that’s instinctual but takes a different color when you’re alone in a dim room with someone.

So, Kei pushes his luck. He’s feeling brave.

In his slow walk towards Tobio, bag abandoned behind him, in the lean-in to Tobio’s heated face, in his grin with a hint of teeth showing, in the way his dark eyes hood a little. Kei pushes and pushes and holds Tobio by his collar over the seaside cliff of the two of them, practically begging him to do something. _King_.

Which is why he shouldn’t be surprised when Tobio drops the keys, pulls Kei in with tight hands along his jaw, and presses their lips together in a bruising kiss.

Which is why he shouldn’t be surprised with the overwhelming realization that he likes Tobio, and kissing Tobio, _so_ much.

Each time Kei catches the Adlers’ games on TV, it always goes like this:

  1. Convince himself to not _only_ watch Tobio play.
  2. Resist the urge to chew out the announcers’ droning whenever Tobio fucks up.



And, really, he shouldn’t be so defensive of Tobio at all; he’s got no reason to. They’re no longer on the same team, they don’t talk, and what reasons has Kei got to assume that Tobio remembers him at all? Didn’t they agree- didn’t Tobio, at least, agree that they were through?

He doesn’t need to point himself towards Tobio anymore.

Still, Kei grumbles around his sake and watches the game anyway. It’s his routine and he’ll stick to it as long as he can stand it. Until he gets lost in it, he thinks.

They break up after almost one year. 

Three days shy of their anniversary, Tobio calls him from somewhere too far away and tells Kei that he needs to focus on the team. Because of course he does. 

There’s rain on Kei’s end, out of his open window.

And Kei agrees with a pause, that he should focus, because he- well, neither of them expected to get this far at all, right? 

Yeah, Tobio adds, interrupting. It was nice while it lasted. It really was, he repeats. 

Silence on Kei’s end, and Tobio squeaks out a little _Hey?_ It’s not a “you” thing.

But Kei’s too choked up and hollow to respond.

Because there’s a lot he wants to say, don’t get him wrong, and it’s nothing short of a novel or an epic compared to what is apparently going through Tobio’s head right now. Kei could write volumes on Tobio and the feeling he evokes in Kei, and how he makes Kei want to be a better person, all to feel worthy of even a fraction of his attention. 

He could drown himself in the sensation. Kei knows he could.

Still, he swallows down the lump in his throat and tells Tobio that he’s been grateful for the past year. Immensely.

Tobio responds- simply and clearly, he wishes that things could be different.

And when Kei groans into their first kiss, he hopes he doesn’t come off as needy as he thinks he does. 

But he is, needy and wanting to be needed by Tobio. So fucking bad.

_He doesn’t- you._

And when Kei smiles into their (yet unknown to him) last kiss-

The two of them walk through the museum in near-silence, Kei occasionally pointing out a set of armor or a painting, usually something seaside and abstract, he particularly likes. And Tobio, sometimes, will agree or note that it’s not his favorite. But he can appreciate it.

Kei, though, (will not that admit he) purposefully leads them to a yellow arch in the middle of a wide, long hallway. He points Tobio towards a plaque on the inside of the arch, to their left, and too soon they’re too close together. Tobio on Kei’s side, leaning forward a little to read the text.

The urge to put his hand on Tobio’s shoulder, to come into him and let his fingertips graze from shoulder to back to neck to the opposite shoulder, washes over Kei. The familiarity is dizzying, like they’ve done this before.

But he doesn’t touch, because that’s not part of moving on. 

And moving on was- is their agreement. Is. Present-tense.

Present-tense all the way through the museum and out the front doors and down the street to Tobio’s hotel. 

Present-tense as they mutually break their agreement, and stare into years of an ocean that goes all the way from Kei to Tobio. From sailor to landmark.

  
  
  
  
  


Tobio traces his fingertips across Kei’s jaw and leaves pools of salt in his wake.

Barely holding back a gasp, a noise of want that’s laid lapping the shores of his heart for ten years, Kei wavers. Begs silently for Tobio to jump back into him, heart-first and blind.

Something unintelligible mumbles itself from the drip of Tobio’s lips, too close and not close enough to Kei’s own. Tobio’s palms move to frame the wall behind Kei’s head. Woozy, Kei swallows and wills himself to be patient a little longer. To wait for one of them to regret any part of this.

 _Patience_ , his soul demands. _Patience, for the well of it inside Tobio has run dry._

But patience has never been Kei’s strong suit.

Now is no different. Not when Tobio is in front of him, and so close to getting it, he thinks.

Kei’s hands burn a hole where they lay dead at his side; desperate for anything, he grips Tobio’s biceps where they frame his chest.

Desperately, Kei wonders if he can press his hands into Tobio’s skin hard enough to break the barrier. To push into the surface and scoop out some part of him into his palms, hold it like one holds water before you splash it in someone’s face. 

He wants to drown Tobio in himself, Kei does, wants to imagine that there are waves upon waves crashing in Tobio’s body that Kei can pull them both under. Waves that crest, screaming _kiss him like before kiss him again kiss him. Love him._

_Love the one who’s been swimming after you for ten years, and who you left drowning in his own sadness._

_He doesn’t- you._

Their eyes meet, crowded into each other. Tobio’s are near-wild, pupils blown so dark Kei could look for his reflection in them. And he doesn’t, but he does will Tobio to make the first move.

He’s not moving until Tobio does, he decides. He will let Tobio come back to him on his own.

Kei fools himself of that as he, oceanic and blue and waiting, wills Tobio to let go. To move.

_Tobio, come. Come into me, and need me. Please need me._

But, really, Kei thinks with sudden, startling clarity, when has Tobio ever needed him as much as he needs Tobio?

_He doesn’t need you._

And that is the truth. 

Tobio blinks, still staring at Kei, and then he stands straight and tucks his arms back at his sides. He looks at Kei’s mouth, lips parted a little and jaw tense, and maybe Kei imagines it but he hopes Tobio is sorry. At least a touch.

Sorry for wanting things to be different and not being strong enough to change them.

Sorry for- stringing Kei along for ten years. 

The stranger in front of Kei presses his lips together and hangs his head. And waits. Because it’s his hotel room, and even though Tobio is the one who’s wordlessly insisting they break things off and was the one who demanded it in the first place he’s making Kei walk out on him. Walk out on them.

Kei pulls himself off of the wall and straightens the lapels of his coat.

And, like a sprinkling, summer rain, he closes the distance between them and uses one finger to tilt Tobio’s cheek towards him. Leaves a kiss there that he hopes conveys everything he hasn’t got a chance to say.

Without looking back, Kei walks out.

He doesn’t really register what’s happened until he shuts his own apartment door behind himself.

Blankly, he strips his coat off and toes out of his dress shoes. Hangs his work key card that’s on a lanyard next to his key ring that’s next to his coat rack. 

The persistent ache in the middle-back of his flooded chest, sitting somewhere just shy of his heart, pounds dully until he reaches his bedroom. He sits on the edge of his bed, and catches in the dresser mirror opposite of it his own reflection. How small he looks, even at his abnormal height, compared to the too-big bed behind him. And, oh, how tired he is. How his hair is ruffled and a little damp from the evening mist. 

Kei decides, as his resolve and reflection crumble and reality sinks in, that there really couldn’t have been anything Tobio saw in him anyway. Right? 

Not when he’s this weak over the inevitable.

He pulls his glasses off and sets them in his lap as the tears start to spill; and as his bottom lip quivers and the numbing feeling spreads through his face and blooms out of his chest, he presses his palms into his eyes. And he imagines, maybe, that Tobio is feeling the same way, and that some blocks and some oceans away in Tokyo he’s crying, too. Maybe he’s weak, too.

That’s being generous, though, and Kei knows it. Knows it as his breathing gets heavier and more stilted, and when he chokes on his own tears he tosses his glasses on the bed behind him and slumps down the front of it onto the floor. 

There’s no part of Kei that really believes Tobio could be this weak.

And there’s- a thought trying to push itself into the front of Kei’s mind. But his head is stuffed with the past hour of his life and he can’t breathe and when he pulls his palms from his eyes and looks at them, tear-stained and pale red and shaking, he sobs out loud and lets them drop to his sides. 

Despite himself, Kei’s sob is followed by some kind of- warped smile. His fingernails squeeze with a pinch into his wet palms, and he mumbles to himself.

_He doesn’t- you._

_He doesn’t need you._

“He doesn’t need me.”

**Author's Note:**

> (shoutout to the best beta readers percy and miles ily mwah)
> 
> thank you for reading! i don't know why i can only write tskg in non-linear narrative but that's okay
> 
> not that anybody particularly cares, but i move into my first college dorm in a week and, honestly, i'm not sure what writing is going to look like while i'm there. i do want to keep writing fic, but needing time to settle in and develop my routine in a new place is going to take priority. my current plan is to tentatively start work on a long-term writing project with a more developed and fleshed-out au that i can work on periodically, but who knows!
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated :)!
> 
> and you can always find me on [ twitter](https://twitter.com/ushikariare).


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